


Strength or Weakness?

by auroracalisto



Series: Victor Zsasz/Reader [5]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Basically one shots with prompts, Chapter Length Varies, F/M, Marriage, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Violence, Pregnancy, Reader Insert, Sentence Prompts, relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23259058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auroracalisto/pseuds/auroracalisto
Summary: Zsasz and the reader go through many different scenarios in this story.  Many different situations, many different feelings.  One thing remains the same, though: is the love they share a strength?  Or is it more of a weakness, for both of them?
Relationships: Victor Zsasz/Reader
Series: Victor Zsasz/Reader [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656385
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	1. Sentence Prompts

_ Sentence prompts that will be used: _

**Italics mean that they have been used**

_"Can you please come and get me?"_

_"I think I'm in love with you and I'm terrified."_

"You need to stop leaving dead bodies in my kitchen."

_"How long has it been since you last slept?"_

"Because nobody cares about me!"

_"I don't know where I am. Please help me."_

"Thank you for trying . . ."

"Shockingly enough, not everyone can buy an entire store."

"You haven't experienced loss."

"No, but I wake up every day wondering if this is the day you're not coming back to me."

_"He's not answering his phone."_

_"Don't hate him."_

_"How could I? He's all I have left of you."_

_"Where did this bruise come from?"_

"Blood—are you bleeding?"

"How dare you! I have every right to be worried!"

"Don't let me go."

"Hear my heartbeat? Just focus on that."

"We could get arrested for this."

_"I—um . . . can I hold your hand?"_

"It's not your fault."

* * *

Please feel free to request some below or on the other chapters following this one!


	2. Payphone Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Using: "Can you please come and get me?" and "I don't know where I am. Please help me."

“ _Can you please come and get me?_ ”

Victor felt his blood run cold. “[Your name]?”

He didn’t recognize the number. She always called from the burner phones that he had given her to hold onto. 

“Please? _I don’t know where I am. Please help me_.” he heard her soft voice, rough from obviously crying. 

Victor frowned deeply. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know, Vic,” she tried not to cry any more than she already had. “I—I think I’m downtown,” [Your name] said, leaning her head against the glass walls of the payphone. “I,” she took in a deep breath, trying to keep herself calm, “I don’t remember how I got here.”

“What?” His gloved hand gripped onto his cellphone. He quickly made his way to his car, waving at the girls to go ahead and finish the job. He needed to find [Your name] before someone else found her instead. “Alright, just—just tell me where you are.”

“I don’t know,” she repeated. 

“No, tell me what you’re around. I’ll find you,” he said, a deep frown on his lips. 

He heard the shaky breath that she tried to pull into her body. 

“I—I’m in a glass phonebooth near a tall brick building. The side of it has some kind of mural. It’s too dark, Vic, I can’t see what it says—”  
“It’s okay,” he frowned as he stepped on the gas, “what else do you see?”

“I, I can see—I can see a dress boutique with dresses in the window. And—and I think there’s some kind of nightclub. There’s loud music coming from somewhere,” she said. 

“Alright, I know where you are,” he spoke into the phone, disregarding any kind of speed limit law. He rushed down the streets of Gotham, his heart beating in his chest. He knew that one of these days, she would be in trouble because of his lifestyle. He didn’t know that it would be so soon. 

He quickly pulled up to the sidewalk, spotting [Your name] gripping the black phone and leaning against the glass. She was clearly injured and still crying—he could hear her through his speaker. He didn’t stop his car, just putting it into park, before he got out of his car and ran over, quickly pulling open the glass doors. 

[Your name] dropped the phone in her hands and moved to hug him, a sob escaping her. “You found me,” she cried. 

“I know, I know,” Victor hushed the girl, holding her close to his chest. “Come on. Let’s get you home,” he said, looking around to see if anyone was watching. He seen no one and reluctantly brought her out of the safety of the phone booth and led her over to his car. “You’re not leaving my sight from here on out unless you need to. Got it?”

She quickly nodded, wiping her falling tears away as she looked up at the man. “Thank you,” she whispered. Victor watched her with soft eyes, kissing her forehead. The girl was the reason for his softness. If anyone took that away from him, there would be hell to pay. 


	3. How Could I?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uses: "Don't hate him." and "How could I? He's all I have left of you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! Major character death & mentions of hard pregnancy.

The doctor had informed them shortly into [Your name]’s pregnancy that there was a chance she wouldn’t carry to term. 

A month after that, he had informed them that it’s possible that they could lose both [Your name] and the baby. 

Victor had wanted [Your name] to get an abortion. He didn’t want to lose her. Hell, he couldn’t lose her. If he lost her, he would lose the only thing good in his life. He couldn’t. 

But [Your name] didn’t. She understood Victor and never got upset over his wants, but she never got an abortion. Hell, she did whatever she could to ensure that she and the baby would be okay.

When six months came around, [Your name] was practically bedridden. She had to beg Victor to take her to get an ultrasound of their little baby. She wanted to know the gender—she wanted to pick out a name for her baby as soon as she possibly could. So, Victor took her. In the hour that they were at the obstetric office, they discovered that they would be soon welcoming a little boy into the world. 

[Your name] was more than excited. She was thrilled to know that she would have a little man that Victor would be able to take care of with her. 

Victor, however, wasn’t excited. The further she got into her pregnancy, the more anxious he became. There was a feeling of dread forever pitted at the bottom of his stomach; [Your name] or the baby wouldn’t make it. Perhaps even both. 

So, when eight months came around and her water broke, his strong façade quickly came crashing down. It was too soon. The two of them knew it. But that didn’t stop Victor from rushing her to the hospital. His heart ached as he looked at his heavily pregnant wife. He held back the feeling he had, not telling her. He only gave her soft smiles, mumbling soft “I love you’s” as he got her inside of the hospital emergency room. 

She was quickly taken to the labor ward, and he was allowed to be with her. He never once left her side, throughout the ten hours of intense labor. 

Once there was the wail of their baby boy, he let his wall break. He was crying and [Your name] seen this. There was so much blood. So much so that the doctor wouldn’t be able to do anything to save [Your name].

The woman slowly reached up and placed a hand on Victor’s cheek before the baby was carefully handed to the new mother. 

“I need you to promise me something, Vic,” she said, her voice soft and breathy. She talked that way when she was tired. 

“What?” he gripped onto her hospital gown sleeve as the doctor tried to clean her up. There was nothing that could be done. Surgery wouldn’t help her. 

“ _Don’t hate him_ ,” [Your name] said, looking down at the dark-eyed baby as he cried. 

Victor stared the woman down, a deep frown on his lips. 

“[Your nickname],” he said, tears pooling in his eyes. “ _How could I? He’s all I have left of you_ ,” he spoke, knowing that the inevitable would soon be upon them. 

[Your name] looked up at Victor with a sad expression. “I love you so much. Please remind him that I loved him,” she quickly said, looking back down at the baby. 

“Name him,” Victor quickly said. 

[Your name] let out a soft, forced giggle. “Evan,” she spoke softly, closing her eyes for a moment. “Evan,” she gave a small nod, pressing a soft kiss to the baby’s soft forehead. “Victor, please take him,” she said, glancing up at her husband.

He quickly frowned and took the child from her, holding the baby gently. He pressed a rushed kiss to her lips, which [Your name] returned. 

“Middle name. What is his middle name?” he asked.

“You give him his middle name—”

“No, no, you give me his middle name. Now,” he said, his voice harsher than he wanted it to sound as he held back a sob. 

“Okay—okay,” she took in a deep breath. “Evan Parker,” she looked up at her husband. “Evan Parker Zsasz. How does that sound?” she asked, her words slurring as she finished her sentence. Victor kissed her forehead, clenching his jaw. “Perfect,” he held the now calm baby close to his chest. Victor watched as [Your name] leaned back, her eyes fluttering shut. The heart monitor began to go flat and Victor was pushed away as the nurses quickly attended to her side. 

Victor looked down at the child in his arms, seeing as the poor baby had fallen asleep. He would keep his promise. He would never be able to hate this child, despite him having killed his wife. Evan was all he had left of his wife. He would protect him with his life if it would be the last thing he ever did. 


	4. Unrequited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Open-ended one shot. Also, just a warning, this might be more of emotional angst. I'll let you find out why, but, still. Just a warning.

She felt her heartbeat throb in her ears as she downed yet another glass of whiskey. She motioned for the bartender to keep them coming and he did just that, seeing as she had already sat down a couple of tens to pay for quite a few drinks. 

[Your name] closed her eyes and lifted up the cold glass, squeezing her eyes shut as her lips pressed to the rim. Before she could drink any of it, a gloved hand intercepted the glass and sat it back down on the countertop. Her eyes shot open to look at the culprit and her cheeks flushed darkly as her eyes landed on Zsasz.

“Can I help you?” she swallowed thickly, grabbing her glass once more. 

Zsasz rolled his eyes and sat down beside of her, taking the glass and moving it away from her. “Are you gonna tell me why the hell you’ve drank four of those in the past ten minutes?” he asked. 

“What does it matter?” she let out a laugh, running a hand through her hair. 

“Just tell me.” He frowned deeply. 

[Your name] shrugged and got to her feet, grabbing her purse from the counter. She began to walk off, only to have her wrist grabbed. 

“Let go of me, Victor,” she said, a frown gracing her lips. 

“Where are you going?”

“To my apartment since I can’t drink here without someone stopping me—”

“Let me walk you,” he said. 

“No—no, you’re the reason I’m fucking drinking—please leave me alone—”

[Your name] realized in her haze of alcohol what she had said. She clenched her jaw, her eyes darting around the bar so she wouldn’t actually have to look at the man. 

“You’re—what? What did I do?” he asked, genuinely confused. 

[Your name] pulled her wrist away, her hand gripping onto her purse. She didn’t say a word until Zsasz said her name again. 

She took in a deep breath before the words escaped her, “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.” Her heart throbbed. 

“You’re—you’re drunk, [Your name],” Victor frowned. 

She looked up at the man in disbelief. She gave a small nod, taking a step back. 

“I know.” Her eyes locked with his for a brief moment. “I’m trying to forget,” she said, hoping he would leave her alone. She didn’t need to worry about him. She didn’t need to worry about Zsasz and his forever dangerous job. Her heart ached just seeing him standing in front of her. 

Victor’s lip quirked but his face remained the same. “Oh.” He simply said. He didn’t reach out to grab her. “You know. I could kill you right now. Then you wouldn’t have to think about it.”

“What—”

“That’s what you want, right? God, it must be awful to think you love me, right? Worst thing in the world, hm? Worst thing in Gotham?” he snorted slightly, a hand moving to his pistol. 

Her eyes widened a bit and she suddenly grabbed his wrist. “No,” she watched him closely. “No. I don’t want to forget. I don’t want to die. I just . . . it would be easier for me to forget about you because I know I can’t ever have you,” she said, her voice low so no one else but Victor would hear. 

“Just—just go home, [Your name],” he frowned at the girl and she gave a small nod, letting go of his wrist. 

She didn’t turn back to look at him as she left the bar. She headed straight to her apartment, unaware that Victor turned back to the drink on the counter and downed it in a couple of seconds. 


	5. Unrequited [pt 2]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Using: "How long has it been since you last slept?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuation to the last one-shot I posted. This also ended up being a loooot longer than what I had originally planned on doing. Oh well. And this genuinely sucks. I'm sorry to anyone who willingly reads this lmaoooo

Victor was left to his thoughts. Surely, [Your name] didn’t mean it when she said she would never be able to have him. He stood up from his stool at the bar, not letting another minute go by as he made his way to her apartment. He couldn’t go on with the rest of his night knowing that [Your name] would be miserable, because of him. _Because of him._

As he came upon her apartment, the first thing he did was check to see if it was unlocked. It was. He wasted no time going inside, looking around for the drunk woman. He soon found her in her bed, curled up in a ball and crying. 

“[Your name]?” he spoke softly, walking over to her. 

Her head poked up through the blankets surrounding her. She sniffled and quickly wiped her tears away, failing miserably. She only smudged her mascara and eyeliner. 

Victor watched her with soft eyes. He noticed she was still wearing the clothing she went to the bar in. With a soft sigh, he gently peeled some of the blankets away from her head. 

“Look,” he began, “if you’re going to sleep, you need to get your shoes and makeup off.”

[Your name] slightly sat up, clenching her jaw as she stared him down. “Why are you here?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“What?”

“You heard me, Vic,” she hiccuped, pushing her toes against the back of her heels to get her shoes off.

His heart pounded in his chest. He hated to admit it, but he loved it when she said any variant of his name.

“I came because you were drunk. Had to see if you got back home or not.”

“Why do you care—”

“I just do, alright?” he shot the woman a look. “I’m going to go and get you some water. Do you feel well enough to shower?”

She rubbed her nose with the palm of her hand and nodded, getting off of her bed and moving past him. 

Victor sighed and watched as the door shut. He went to the woman’s kitchen, noticing how neat and tidy everything was. He got a glass of water and found a bottle of aspirin in a junk drawer by the refrigerator. It was only a couple of minutes before he came back into the bedroom. 

[Your name] had already gotten out of the shower and slipped on soft pajamas. She was brushing her hair, sniffling at herself in the mirror. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, sitting the glass of water in front of her. 

She glanced at the water and picked it up to sip at it. She shrugged in response, going over to her bed. The alcohol and all of the thoughts clouding her mind did not help her. She sluggishly sat down the cup and got herself into the bed. 

[Your name] pursed her lips before she looked over at the man. “Vic . . . when was the last time you—” she stopped herself, huffing softly as she tried to find the words she wanted to say. “ _How long has it been since you last slept?_ ”

Victor stared at her for a moment. “Huh?”

“Will you stay the night? I . . . you can leave in the morning. You don’t even have to talk to me again. Just . . . lay with me.”

Victor thought about the conversation they had earlier that day. He had threatened to kill her and yet she was sitting here, asking him to lay with her. 

“Vic?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, slipping off his black shoes and his suit jacket. He came over and laid on top of the comforter she had lying on her bed. 

[Your name] watched with hazy eyes, lying back whenever he did. She didn’t say much else before she had fallen into a deep, alcohol-induced sleep. Victor watched her, but only for a few minutes. He thought about what she asked— _How long has it been since you last slept?_ Hell, he slept. But the last time he was able to actually sleep without waking up and something happening? He couldn’t remember and spent the couple minutes before he fell asleep trying to find an answer. 

* * *

[Your name] woke with a start and a raging headache. 

Letting out a groan, she ran a hand through her tangled hair and slowly sat up, vaguely remembering what happened the night before. Her face grew pale at the thought of her confession and she quickly looked over to see nothing laying beside of her. 

“Just a dream,” she breathed out, squeezing her eyes shut. She let out a soft sigh. “Should have known,” she mumbled, getting out of bed soon after. She spent no time taking a couple of the aspirins by the glass of water she had. She quickly went about brushing her hair and her teeth so she wouldn’t be bothered by that later on in the morning. 

[Your name] was prepared to leave her bedroom for a couple minutes when she heard someone in her kitchen. She tried to remember if she brought anyone home the night before. Mustering up what little dignity she had left, she left her room and walked down the hallway, to her kitchen. 

Her entire heart felt like it was going to explode when she seen Zsasz there, leaning against the countertop. He was waiting for something to come out of the oven and that’s when she finally smelt something sweet. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but before she could say anything, Zsasz spoke up.

“I have an answer, by the way. Last night you asked me how long it had been since I slept.” He turned away, grabbing a towel as the oven’s timer went off. He opened it up and pulled out a pan of muffins. [Your name] wondered how long he had known how to bake. “It’s been a while,” he looked over at her. 

[Your name]’s eyes didn’t meet his. 

“I wanted to talk to you,” Victor then said. “About yesterday. I needed to . . . just tell you.” He scratched the back of his head. “You—I—I haven’t really figured it out. And I would need you to be aware that there are dangerous people I work with—”

“Get on with it, Vic,” she softly spoke, crossing her arms over his chest. 

“—I love you,” he finished, keeping his eyes on [Your name]’s. 

“Why didn’t you tell me that yesterday?” [Your name] asked, feeling the tears begin to well in her eyes. She couldn’t help it. She had made herself look like a fool and now this dumbass stood in front of her, confessing how he felt in return. 

“I didn’t know how to tell you. I wanted to. I just . . . I don’t understand how you could feel this way about me.” He frowned at the woman. 

“Why can’t you just trust my word? When have I ever lied to you?”

“You haven’t,” Zsasz gave a small nod. “That’s why I’m telling you how I feel, now.”

[Your name] rubbed her nose, similarly to how she did the night before. She felt like crying. This was not how she expected anything to go. But she wouldn’t push it away. Not when Victor was standing here, confessing how he felt. 

The woman pushed her pride aside and walked over to the man, tightly wrapping her arms around him. Victor dropped the towel he was holding on the counter and in return, letting one hand tangle in her hair and his other rest on the small of her back. 


	6. Nerves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Using: “I—um . . . can I hold your hand?”

__

_“I—um . . . can I hold your hand?”_

Victor blinked a couple of times before he cast his gaze onto you. “What?” he asked with an incredulous expression coating his face. 

A dark blush formed on your cheeks. You had tagged along with Victor to the Penguin’s club. You were anxious and you could feel the sweat beading on the back of your neck and the palms of your hands. You looked away from him and wiped the sweat off on your black, knee-high skirt, hastily grabbing at your glass. 

Victor frowned, noticing your trembling fingers. He let out a breath through his nose before he held out his hand to you underneath the table. 

You noticed and looked down at his hand, almost instantaneously grabbing it. You laced your fingers with his, closing your eyes to try and calm down. 

Victor said nothing about how nervous you were, but he kept his hand encasing yours. “You can move closer if you want.”

A soft smile broke out on your lips. “Really?” you mumbled and looked up at him. “Thank you . . .” you mumbled and moved closer, hesitantly leaning your head up against his shoulder. 

You wouldn’t have noticed unless you looked closely, but Victor had a soft blush and smile on his face. It only disappeared when he saw his boss make his way over to the two of you. 


	7. Little Reassurance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Using: "He's not answering his phone."

Biting your lip, your thumb runs over the buttons of your phone. You had called Victor six times. No, seven. Over three hours. Victor always answered you, even if he had been in the middle of something. And if he didn’t? He always called back.

Now, you sat in the middle of Oswald’s living room, nervously gripping at the ends of your jacket. 

Oswald had tried to console you. But of course, it didn’t work.

* * *

_“I promise you, [Your name]. Zsasz is fine. I sent him out on a hard mission.”_

_“No._ He’s not answering his phone. _He always answers.”_

_“[Your name], before you were around, it took some time for Zsasz to contact any of us after big jobs—”_

_“Oswald, you do_ not _understand. He always answers. He always answers me,” you looked at the man, tears welling in your eyes._

* * *

After that conversation, Oswald found himself just sitting there, making sure you didn’t do anything too crazy. 

You sniffled and wiped a couple of escaping tears, upset as you stared down at your phone. “Has he messaged you?” you asked, looking over at the Penguin. 

He frowned and shook his head, checking his phone just to be sure. He was getting a bit annoyed. But he knew where your heart was. Someone like Zsasz, someone like him, in general, was hard to love. You must have loved him a lot to be here, like this. 

The sound of a door slamming shut, and the patter of hurried footsteps pulled you from your thoughts. You shut your phone rather quickly and looked, seeing an exasperated Zsasz covered in blood. There was a cut on his forehead and his jacket was visibly torn and bloody in a couple of places. 

Before you could ask anything, he looked directly at you and came over to your side. 

“I’m fine. My phone got destroyed,” he mumbled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry for not answering—” he turned his head to look at the Penguin, “—I got a bit tied up. But it’s taken care of.”

You hugged him tightly, a frown still evident. But you just held onto him, relaxing once he wrapped his arms around you. 


	8. bruises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> using: "Where did this bruise come from?"

It made Zsasz’s blood boil to know that you were with someone else. But he respected you enough to not do anything to jeopardize your relationship. You had been with this guy—he never caught his name, funnily enough—for about a year, before you ever met Zsasz. And although you couldn’t help but notice the connection you had with the assassin, you were loyal to a fault with your boyfriend. You loved him dearly. 

At least, that’s what you told yourself. 

You sat at the bar, asking the waiter to keep the drinks coming. You and your boyfriend fought, and the only person you thought to ask to talk to was Zsasz. 

You didn’t flinch as the black-clad man sat down beside you. He was quiet. Mulling you over. He was pissed, to begin with, because his job went south shortly before you called him up—but now, he was even angrier. 

_“Where did this bruise come from?”_

Sitting your drink down, you raise an eyebrow and looked at the man. “I ran into a bookshelf.”

“Bookshelf my ass,” he scoffed, grabbing onto your wrist. He turned your arm over, seeing the bruise that ran across your skin. “He did this to you?”

“No—”

“[Your name],” he stared you down. “You’ve always been a bad liar.”

“I am not lying, Victor—”

He stared at you once more and you swallowed thickly but returned his gaze. 

“Vic…”

Victor let out a soft sigh and let go of your hand. “I can get rid of him. If you want.”

Closing your eyes, you brought your drink up to your lips but stopped yourself and looked the man dead in the eyes. 

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

The glass nearly slipped through your fingers, but Victor caught it and sat it down on the counter. He looked at you with a questionable expression. 

“Do it,” you breathlessly whispered. 


End file.
